Chapter 413

The elderly matriarch's instincts were razor-sharp.

Ethan's fingers tightened reflexively around Sophia's slender wrists.

Victoria, seated across from them, caught the intimate gesture, her eyes narrowing.

The patriarch cleared his throat. "As the future lady of the Blackwood dynasty, you must understand our lineage. The Blackwoods and Thorntons have ruled Harborview's elite circles for centuries."

His voice carried the weight of history. "While we built empires in commerce, the Thorntons cultivated political influence. Yet our families remained intertwined." He fixed Ethan with a piercing stare. "William Thornton is gravely ill. Surely you've heard?"

Sophia's breath hitched. Now she understood why Alexander hadn't been seen at the office lately.

"I'm aware." Ethan's reply was ice.

"Then why haven't you visited?" William Blackwood demanded.

Silence stretched between them.

The truth was simple yet explosive. The last time they'd spoken, William had demanded Ethan marry Isabella. With the old man's fragile health, outright refusal could be catastrophic. Better to avoid the confrontation entirely.

"Speak!" William's cane struck marble.

"I won't go." Three words, colder than midwinter.

"You ungrateful—" William's face purpled. "That man saved your mother's life!"

Ethan rose like a stormfront. "If he returns to Harborview, I'll pay respects. But walk into his sickroom now? Should I tell him Sophia is my wife? Watch him choke on his medicine?" His glare silenced the room. "Do you want his death on my hands?"

William deflated. The logic was irrefutable.

After a tense pause, Eleanor interjected. "Stay for dinner. The chef prepared your favorites."

"Yes! Please!" Lily bounced between them, her cherubic face alight. The sprawling estate enchanted her, and the promise of delicacies sealed the deal.

Ethan's resistance crumbled. "Fine."

As they moved to the dining hall, Sophia noted the precise placement of nine chairs. None bore her name.

Her stomach twisted. The ancestral bracelet weighed heavy on her wrist—a madwoman's blessing that meant nothing to these people.

"I'm not hungry," she murmured. "I'll wait in the car."

Ethan's lips brushed her ear. "Stomachache? I know excellent... remedies." His breath scorched her skin.

Before she could protest, he dragged her toward the table. Across from them, Victoria's smile dripped venom.

Earlier, in the privacy of Eleanor's chambers, Victoria had wept dramatic tears. "Aunt, you deserve better! They treat you like furniture while that gold-digger flaunts stolen jewels!"

Eleanor's teacup shattered. "That Montgomery harlot!"

Victoria hid her triumph. The seed was planted.

Her wrist still ached from Ethan's brutality weeks prior. The humiliation at Lily's birthday. The public feud with Isabella. Every slight demanded repayment.

And Eleanor was the perfect weapon.

Childless and insecure, the matriarch clung to Victoria as her proxy daughter. Together, they'd ensure Sophia never claimed the Blackwood name.

As dinner commenced, Victoria watched Eleanor's fingers tighten around her steak knife. The game was afoot.

Across the table, Sophia met Victoria's gaze—and smiled.

The war had just begun.